An Elf, A Man, and A Dwarf
by Lasgalendil
Summary: Wherein the reader finds out exactly what business each has in the Riddermark. Crackfic, Oneshot. Oblivious Legomance. M for obvious reasons.


AN: Borys68, Tommy Ginger, and annafan (my wives…it's complicated) are fond of M-rated, AU-verse crackfic that asks "what if Ellyth have on-demand-ovulation, Ellyn fire blanks when not intending their partners to conceive, and what if _The Laws and Customs of the Eldar_ were, according to Elfropology 101, a load of bullshit, not to mention the orcs!" Sex, cynicism, and hilarity abound.

I prefer a different parody: what if every other race was just sexual as Tolkien assures us Elves aren't?

* * *

><p>The most bothersome thing about traveling with mortals (aside from their near daily insistence upon the curious phenomena of "sleep") was the multitude of strange and peculiar illnesses they faced.<p>

For instance, this morning while stopping to water the horses, refill their skins, and "rest", he had taken the time to bathe, and the Dwarf had sustained a substantial sunburn, although he had been assured once again that it would heal both quickly and well.

Then later that day while riding hard through the fields and fen of Rohan on the back of Arod, Gimli had grown increasingly discomfited and rather failed to move in rhythm with the horse's firm footfalls. It had been, perhaps, an unkindness to his friend to ride without saddle or stirrups (though he doubted the Dwarf's stunted legs would reach them). The Elf put it off to—no doubt—the lack of propensity for the Dwarves to ride, and thus made no objection to the clinging behavior, shifting pelvis and wandering search for handholds which continued even when the horse was stopped. The Dwarves were undoubtedly a strange and secretive folk, preferring caves of stone to the open air, the roots of mountains to the boughs of trees, and both smelt and looked so much like the shaggy, horned sheep of the _Hithaeglir_ that he resigned himself to never fully understanding them, though he might spend a lifetime in the endeavor.

And again, later that night while laying on a hillside, enjoying the starry expanse above while the horses grazed and the Dunadan and Mithrandir "slept", he was surprised when Gimli bundled himself next to him in his blanket and cloak, seeking to "get warm". He been led to believe that the Dwarves were hardy folk, and they were many leagues farther South than either of their homelands, and the smell of Spring was already in the air…but just as recently as the Golden Wood he had learned that many of his assumptions and prejudices concerning his friend's race were unfounded (and Mortals, he had been told in his youth, were much frailer than the Eldar, dying of such petty things as coldness, heat, lack of food or even water!) so he stated his consent, glad to finally be at the Dwarf's service.

He had already begun to grow accustomed to what the Aragorn had referred to as poorly treated cases of the (assuredly common) Mortal ailments known as "snoring", "belching", and "flatulence", and so naturally made no comment upon observing Gimli grunting and furiously rubbing his nether region, which he could only assume was quite sore from a hard day's ride, unaccustomed as Friend Dwarf was.

He was surprised, however, to observe that many of the women of this country were similarly afflicted, as accustomed as they were to hard duties upon horseback. But indeed, wherever he passed them skinning goats, laundering clothes, or spinning wool in front of small, earthen huts or tending flocks in grassy fields, many would lift their skirts to scratch what appeared to be an insatiable itch in a rather sensitive area, often eliciting gasps or even cries of pain.

Dismayed, the Elf told Aragorn as such, who, no doubt distracted by the weighty burdens of his destiny, had failed to notice their suffering. The Ranger had been so distracted, in fact, that on multiple occasions Hasufel had halted and even begun to graze. The King of Men pondered this information deep in his heart, troubled—no doubt, the Elf knew—by his heroic and regal concern for all the populace of the many realms of men for which he would come to rule. He stood and watched the stars overhead as the others "slept" that night, assured that Aragorn would investigate and with time no doubt cure this strange contagion once their campaign against Sauron was at an end.

The next day they rode to Edoras, where they met the Lady Eowyn in the halls of Meduseld, her plait flaxen in the morning sun ("but nowhere near as fair as yo..._Galadriel's_", Gimli had grunted) and she greeted Aragorn demurely as befitting for a daughter of a lesser house of men, and again at supper, when she passed Aragorn the ceremonial drought of her people as befitted the sister-daughter of Theoden-King, then again in the stables wherein (as no doubt befitted a Shieldmaiden) she apparently demonstrated to Aragorn how to sheath one's sword, mount, and ride in the manner of the Rohirrim and how to properly pronounce affirmations of delight in the strange, unwieldy tongue of her people. She proved a patient tutor and his friend, it seemed, a slow learner, as their lesson lasted long into the night, and indeed until the early hours of the next morning. When they emerged, however, it was clear that both parties were quite satisfied with his progress.

[The stars had been veiled, he related to Aragorn, but his friend hadn't seemed interested, and indeed engaged immediately in that strange practice of "sleep". He found Gimli surreptitiously scratching again.]

Thus it came as no surprise to him when the Lady Eowyn accompanied then to the Deeping Comb and later though the Paths of the Dead at last to the White City, nor indeed that the lessons continued nightly along the way and long thereafter. After all, if Aragorn were to be King of Men, he must be sure to take in the local traditions and earn the utmost respect of those he would come to rule as his own father had done in the Greenwood, taking the language and customs of the Silvan-folk long ago (Indeed, he himself knew of his Sindar heritage mostly through the stories of his mother, and still identified so strongly with his adopted culture that it came as no insult when the Dwarf had called him "a Wood Elf."). The Sons of Elrond—known far and wide for his hospitality to Elves, Dwarves, and Dunedain alike—were also enthusiastic upon arriving to learn of this new tutelage, undoubtedly relieved to know their foster-brother and distant kinsman (the concept of a mortal kinsman was still strange to him) was making good progress and forming strong alliances on his quest for Kingship.

With great difficulty and much sacrifice the Ring was destroyed, and Sauron defeated. And, after such a difficult combat and the many years of continued fealty ahead, it came as little surprise to the two kingdoms that Eomer-King insisted on a timely matrimony (disturbing as it was, mortals often gifted their women away into marriages for political alliances, and this was considered both an acceptable and dutiful behavior on part of both parties involved), and the King and Lady Eowyn Wraith's-bane were wed in the White City on Midsummer's Eve. The Elf was, however, astounded at the short duration of her carrying (less than 6 months!), having heard that Ellyth carried for a year after the begetting, but Men—including and especially his friend—seemed less than open to discussing this matter so he assuaged his curiosity with the knowledge that mortals were an entirely different species, and he could only expect them to behave as such.

Although saddened to learn of his friend's chronic condition, Legolas the Elf and Gimli the Dwarf remained fast friends through the War of the Ring and after, and spent their days traveling together first to Fanghorn, then to Mirkwood and beyond. Indeed, although initially shocked upon hearing from Ioreth (the woman was, after all, a healer and a veritable source of information on this and many other matters of mortal health that eluded him as an Elda) that the painful symptoms could be reduced only by regular applications of Elf saliva as a salve, he would hardly leave his side. He would have gladly offered his services to the suffering women he observed on his travels, and many had responded enthusiastically to the proposal only to change their minds upon hearing he was similarly treating his Dwarf companion.

Prejudice, he supposed sadly, was everywhere, but he hoped for Gimli's sake to at least help mend the rift between their two kins in the short time they might have together.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm going to feminist hell for this, aren't I?<strong>


End file.
